Alfendi
by BillyJoeCobras
Summary: A oneshot I wrote theorizing how Alfendi came to be Layton's son. I wrote this before Layton Brothers came out, so please excuse how frequently I misspell his name. (I do not own Layton Brothers or Professor Layton, or their characters. This is for entertainment purposes.)


It was yet another average afternoon for the archaeology professor; tons of paperwork to not only file—there was to be a field trip for his class in particular that he was to maintain, so he had to sort through the various permission slips—but there were even piles of homework, some being way past overdue for a grade at this point. Releasing a barely audible sigh, Rosa being absent, Hershel shoves a hand through his hair and forces himself to his feet for a moment, gazing out the window and sipping on a cup of tea he'd made.

Life without Luke around was rather uneventful; Flora spent most hours of the days attending to her studies, and an occasion to see her was rare indeed—after all, Hershel also hosted after school classes and the only time he had to himself was a 30 minute lunch break along with a free hour or two at times—depending on the day, he would have a single class that he wouldn't need to teach.

Downing his beverage, he sets it down, pacing around for a moment until he heard sirens that weren't too distanced…a slight panic sets in as he recalls the events of Claire's demise, his heart beginning to pound. This was exactly how it started all those years ago; the sirens, the smoke, then…

No.

Now wasn't the time to reminisce; his curiosity is overwhelming, so he swiftly grabs his jacket and the precious hat that Claire had given him, rushing outside. The sight before him was all too familiar—although, this time, there were flames…the shrieks around him only brought him back to that moment with Claire yet again.

He merely gulps, staring into the fires, able to feel the heat despite being feet away from the blaze. Shaking his head, he darts over to the crowd gathered around the scene, attempting to reach the building to assist anyone in need.

"Sir, I'm afraid you need to back up!" a voice calls out aggressively, glaring at him.

"I merely wish to assis—"

"We can handle this, sir, now back up!" Hershel merely tilts his hat a bit, releasing a barely audible sigh and backing up into the crowd.

"Mummy? D-Daddy!?" the brunet could hear the voice of a child crying out desperately for his parents, instantly reminded yet again of the blast that had taken away the love of his life…it was almost as if…

But he couldn't be reliving it, could he…? That was impossible…

Upon further inspection, the voice was emitting from another spot in the crowd, and he could make out a silhouette that was barely Luke's height; the boy had curly, oddly-coloured hair that was a mixture of both mahogany and mauve. He'd seemed just as distressed as Hershel was internally, and the situation forced him to recall the events of Clive's past, knowing that this experience would certainly be traumatizing for a child of his approximate age—which Hershel supposed to be about 8.

The professor's features contort into a slight grimace; not interfering in the situation could cause that child's death, so he makes his way over to the young lad—he must have just returned from school from the looks of it, a backpack firmly strapped over his shoulders. His outfit consisted of a striped shirt, white and blue, along with tan shorts.

Upon glancing towards the elder, Alfendy's look of terror only intensifies slightly—his eyes were glistening with tears, his teeth gritted together. Hershel attempts to remain calm for the child's sake, kneeling beside him and staring at him with sympathy. "S-sir, have you seen my Mummy and Daddy!?" he pleads desperately, reaching out and shaking the brunet a bit by gripping the collar of his jacket—an action he would overlook for now.

"I'm…afraid I haven't seen them." Hershel meekly responds, his voice hoarse and choked up—how was he meant to break such grievous news to a child that was so dependent on the ones he'd lost?

"P-please, sir, I…I-I don't want my Mummy and Daddy to…!" the younger of the two whimpers, unable to utter the last of his words, and collapses to the floor, breaking down into choked up sobs. Hershel, in an attempt of comfort, assists the child back onto his feet, wrapping his arms around him.

"It'll be alright…you have to believe that." he assures, maintaining his voice to become steady and confident. The child reels back a bit, but proceeds to wail, returning the man's gentle embrace. "It's all going to be fine…"


End file.
